


Foes With Benefits

by kellifer_fic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Uses His Words, Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop, Scott does too, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellifer_fic/pseuds/kellifer_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wants to fist bump Danny but he's pretty sure he'd just end up punching himself in the eye so he refrains. "It's not really a relationship anyway. It's more a foes with benefits type deal."</p><p>"Except that you're completely in love with him," Lydia says to her manicure.</p><p>"Except that I'm... wait, <i>what</i>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foes With Benefits

Stiles turns seventeen quietly. His dad cooks steaks and he gets a few texts including one from Allison because she's away for a month and a half with her dad, but it's really no big deal. Oddly enough it's Boyd that remembers at school about a week before, asks if he's doing anything and Stiles says no, doesn't want to make a big deal about it.

Ten percent of him is hoping for a surprise bash with everyone but the day passes into night and he comes home to find just his dad out the back of the house, humming tunelessly as he grills and being not-so-secretly chuffed that he has an excuse to eat steak and cake which are his two favorite food groups.

"You doing something on the weekend with the others?" his dad asks. His birthday is on a Wednesday this year, probably the worst day to have a birthday because you're really hitting the mid week slump.

Stiles shrugs, non-committal. Neither Derek or Scott have asked him to anything that could be code for _secret birthday shenanigans_ so he's at a bit of a loose end. 

He doesn't blame everyone, save Boyd apparently, for forgetting. The last few weeks have been tense. There's been territory disputes in the surrounding towns that have been threatening to bleed over into Beacon Hills, putting some useful alliances in jeopardy that the pack's worked hard for. Derek's been on good terms with a lot of surrounding packs for a few months now but they've started disagreeing with each other and Derek's in a bad position, packs starting to demand to know exactly where his loyalties lie.

It's not-so-very-good news all around. 

Derek and the other members of the pack have been in and out of Beacon Hills, trying to soothe ruffled feathers while remaining Switzerland in the border skirmishes. They're still small enough to be prudently wary of getting too involved, especially if they can't call on allies.

Stiles has offered to help but Derek, without really saying the words, kind of _alluded_ to it being a show of weakness to send a human member of a pack along to any negotiations. It doesn't seem to matter that Stiles has well and truly held his own more often than not when challenged by outside wolves wanting to take him on as easy prey. No matter how long Stiles is in the pack, he's always going to be the weak one in Derek's eyes, the one that has to be protected rather than actively involved in the protecting. 

"Apparently my invitation to dinner was lost in the mail." Stiles startles at the sound of Lydia's voice coming from their back deck. She's got her hands on her hips and Danny at her shoulder, grinning. 

"Dad, did you-?" Stiles starts to protest, because the last thing he wants is his Dad calling up his friends and making them come over to throw him a pity party. 

"Ugh, please," Lydia snorts which is a fantastically indelicate sound for her to make. "We just figured the wolves would have their noses up their asses too far to remember so it would be up to team human to save the day, like always."

"Am I part of team human?" his dad leans over to ask. About three months ago, when Derek had started making real inroads with outside packs, Stiles had been forced to level with his dad about the whole wolf thing. He'd taken it surprisingly well, oddly zen about the whole thing. He'd basically been relieved that Stiles wasn't doing drugs or in a cult.

"Are you a supernatural creature and haven't told anyone?" Lydia inquires politely, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Ah, not last time I checked."

"Then welcome to team human. I'll send you an invitation to the Facebook group so it's all official."

"There's a Facebook group?" Stiles asks and Lydia grins, whips out her phone and after a few minutes says, "Yes, totally. No wolves allowed."

"Awesome," Stiles says, feeling strangely mollified.

"Who wants burgers and who wants steaks?" his dad calls.

"Both," Lydia and Danny answer at the same time.

*

Stiles isn't having angry sex, but he is having angry makeouts if that's even a thing.

"Ow...with the... ow!" Stiles complains, because Derek sometimes forgets that Stiles isn't a chew toy and he doesn't heal as quickly as the others. Derek backs off immediately, contrite and Stiles pushes him off and gets up to look at his abused neck. "Dude, my dad will flip. How many times do I have to tell you, nothing above the collar."

"We should stop doing this," Derek says, because he's predictable.

"Fine, whatever," Stiles huffs. He's getting a little tired of the cyclical nature of their relationship anyway. There's the yelling, the kissing then Derek realizing that _they shouldn't be kissing_ which results in about a week of Derek avoiding him, badly, by which he means that Derek hovers but from a greater distance than usual and they both pretend he's not. Then there's a pack meeting, Stiles being a smartass, the yelling and it all starts up again.

"You're not going to argue with me?"

"No. Do you want me to?"

"No," Derek says which is a _blatant lie_.

"Ugh, why are you so bad at everything that doesn't involve somersaulting?"

"I don't do that."

"You _so do_. You did it twice last week."

"I do not."

"You... oh my god, I can't believe I nearly fell for that!" Stiles exclaims because Derek had started looking a little glassy eyed. 

"Fell for what?" Derek asks, blinking and trying to appear innocent.

"You were fight-baiting me. You're not getting an argument out of me tonight. I'm argument blue-balling you."

"You're an insane person."

"That's my line."

"I'm going to go," Derek says and makes absolutely no move to.

"The window is right there, or you could just, you know, use the door. Except then you won't get to somersault."

"Oh my god, you're the worst," Derek grumbles, finally getting up.

"Again, don't steal my line." Stiles drops into his desk chair and opens his laptop. He hears Derek shuffle across the bedroom floor, slowly like he's expecting Stiles is going to stop him any minute. "Don't let the window hit you on the ass on the way out," Stiles adds, which doesn't really make any sense but, whatever.

"Pack meeting tomorrow," Derek says to the back of Stiles' head.

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles huffs and then Derek's gone.

*

Lydia institutes mandatory Team Human Friday night drinks. It's at the first one at Lydia's that Stiles basically lays out his Derek problem and Lydia suggests that he just stop making out with Derek, angrily or otherwise.

"Is there a way to punish him that doesn't punish me?" Stiles whines. After a liberal application of red wine, he's become one with the floor, head resting on Danny's thigh with Lydia smirking at them both from the couch.

"It doesn't exactly sound like the healthiest relationship," Danny says, reaching out blindly to pat at Stiles and nearly ending up with his fingers up Stiles' nose. He and Danny are pretty wasted, Lydia more restrained, sipping delicately at her wine glass and leaving them to obliterate the bottle between them. "That being said, Derek has very nice... assets and I can understand your reluctance to give them up."

Stiles wants to fist bump Danny but he's pretty sure he'd just end up punching himself in the eye so he refrains. "It's not really a relationship anyway. It's more a foes with benefits type deal."

"Except that you're completely in love with him," Lydia says to her manicure.

"Except that I'm... wait, _what_?"

"Dude, it's pretty obvious," Danny agrees.

"No, that's... just no," Stiles says and hates that his voice sounds completely unconvincing. 

"It's okay, we're not judging you," Danny says.

"Oh I totally am," Lydia interjects. 

"It's not true. It _can't_ be. I have better self-preservation instincts than that."

*

A small part of Stiles had always been waiting for the day that his bro-ship with Scott based on a foundation of the mutual love of the color green with they were six would run its course. He'd known they would eventually be separated by girls/boys and other friendships but Stiles liked the little bubble he and Scott had created for themselves and when the surface tension of that bubble is threatened, he's left feeling more than a little bereft.

Scott's still his best friend, probably always will be. They have a history that no one can touch, but Stiles watches Scott horsing around with the others from the sidelines now, sees how someone like Isaac grows more confident in his own skin under Scott's attention, Boyd and Erica naturally deferring to him when Derek isn't around. 

Just as Stiles is sinking into more maudlin territory however, Scott glances up at him, offers a dorky little wave and so distracted, is taken down by an Erica, Isaac combo that leaves him flat on his back, blinking up at the sky. 

It makes him feel just a little bit better.

"He worries about hurting you," Derek says, melting out of the shadows like he always does. Stiles is picking at the frayed knee on his jeans, wondering if maybe he should just head on home because when pack bonding time becomes physical, he has to sit out or explain the bruises to his dad. 

"He worries about hurting everyone," Stiles says. He regrets dragging Scott out to the woods that day for lots of reasons. Losing Scott to the other wolves, Stiles figures, is a pretty small, selfish one to be almost at the top of the list.

"That's not... I just meant, if you feel like he's pulling away from you, that's why," Derek says and Stiles cranes around to look at him, hunched into himself and with his gaze on his pack. Stiles is sitting on the hood of his jeep so his headlights are on the others, Derek by the driver's side door with his expression hidden.

"No one really _gets_ me like Scott, but I can't say the same anymore," Stiles says, surprised at his own candor, how much that hurts.

Derek comes around the jeep, puts himself between Stiles' dangling legs with his back turned so Stiles still can't see his face. They don't normally do this, casual affection had been something well and truly off the table, but Stiles takes the opportunity for what it is, hooks his chin over one of Derek's shoulders. He tries not to show his surprise when Derek drops a proprietary hand on his frayed knee, fingers digging into the hole until they find skin.

"I thought we were still in the avoidance phase of our cycle," Stiles murmurs.

"What?"

"Nothing."

*

"Well, it's good, right? He's in love with you too."

"I don't think that's what's happening here," Stiles says. It's second drinks night and they're on his living room floor. Danny brought box wine which Lydia had rolled her eyes at. Stiles wouldn't normally risk getting drunk in his own house but his dad's on a fishing weekend with some guys from the department.

"He just felt sorry for me," Stiles adds after mulling it over. 

"He certainly macks on you a lot for someone that just feels sorry for you," Lydia says imperiously. "Do you want me to say something to him? I think I still freak him out a little so I might be able to scare him into action."

"God no," Stiles says. "That's only one step up from getting you to pass a note to him for me with check boxes on it about whether he likes me or _like_ likes me."

"That's-" Lydia starts to say, but there's a thump on the door and then a scrabbling sound and all three of them stand, eying the entryway warily. Danny nudges the box wine under the couch with a foot as Stiles makes his way to the door. 

Stiles will never admit it to Derek, but he prefers that Derek uses his window instead of the door most times. Late night visitors to a cop's house are never a good sign and Stiles feels Lydia's hand sneak into his from behind as he dithers, looking back at her to smile grimly before he pulls the door open with his free hand.

There's a man standing on the other side that Stiles doesn't recognize. What makes him try to swing the door shut immediately is that the man isn't wearing shoes, bouncing on dirt-streaked toes. The man or more likely _werewolf_ catches the door as it swings though and shoves it back, grinning.

"Unwise," he says and punches Stiles in the face.

*

Stiles fights his way out of the murky black of unconsciousness to the sound of yelling threaded through with a good amount of growling. He's on his back, ground spongy and damp underneath him so he must be outside. As his vision clears a little, he can see the same man that had come through his door standing over him but he can only see the underside of his jaw because he's not looking at Stiles.

"-fucking stupid or something!" he's yelling, his voice that kind of muddled that comes from talking around fangs.

"Let him go!" Stiles cringes when he recognizes Scott's voice and the guy's foot presses down on his sternum enough that he's reduced to only shallow breaths. He'd never really thought about werewolves having claws on their feet before, but he's intimately aware that they have them now if the five pin-pricks of sharp pain on his chest are anything to go by.

"What kind of Alpha are you that you have a human member when your pack is so small?" the interloper growls. 

"The kind of Alpha that is going to rip you limb from limb if you don't get off him in about three seconds." Stiles lets his head drop sideways and he can see the pack, Derek standing in front of them even though Scott is pressed up against his back like he's yearning to dart around. They're in a loose circle, all wolfed out. 

"I followed your scent straight to him. His house reeks of you and he was unprotected."

"This is the last time I ask nicely," Derek grits through his teeth

"Come at me and see what happens," the werewolf says and _leans_ on Stiles. He chokes out, a pained noise he can't believe emerged from him. He feels like the wolf could put his foot through his chest as easily as paper mache, snapping ribs with as much resistance as dry twigs. 

"Derek," Scott implores and Derek straightens, features shifting back to human. The weight eases off Stiles's chest and he takes gasping breathes, eyes watering. He doesn't like what it says about his life that this is the _second_ time he's nearly been killed by compression suffocation.

"What do you want?"

"Protection," the werewolf says and Derek snorts, eyes glowing red.

"You'll need it from _us_."

"A diversion then. The Farles pack is on my ass and I need to put some distance between me and them. Just delay them, that's all I ask."

The name is familiar, a pack Stiles has heard the others talking about recently. "You could have come to us instead of doing _this_ ," Scott spits, waving a hand at Stiles' prone form.

"You have new, fragile ties to them. You would have handed me over to win favor."

"Let Stiles go and we'll do whatever you want," Scott says and Derek gives him a hard look. 

"Like I'd believe that. You're going to _want_ to buy me some time because I'll have your little human with me. I don't think Brandon will worry about killing a random human he finds with me, especially if he thinks the human's mine." The guy leans down then and licks a warm, disgusting stripe up Stiles' face and then down his neck.

Apparently his fleeting conscience has enough at that and he's out again.

*

Stiles wakes up in the trunk of a car. From the way the engine sounds, he's pretty sure it's Derek's so either Derek thinks it's fine to transport Stiles when he's not feeling his best in the trunk, or he's still a hostage.

He's thinking the latter is more likely.

The car squeals to a stop, throwing Stiles against something sharp that he can't see. There's the sound of one of the doors opening and then crunching gravel. Stiles reaches blindly for his pocket, is grateful that the werewolf didn't bother patting him down because his fingers close around the pepper spray he always keeps on him, even prudently at home since everything became unsettled.

The trunk squeaks ajar and Stiles doesn't wait for it to get all the way open or the reaching hands to grab him. Just douses the werewolf with what is decidedly _not_ pepper spray but a mix of wolfsbane and some other nasty stuff that Deaton had put together for him and pressed into his palm about six months ago. _Hope you never have to use it but don't hesitate if you do_ he'd said. Deaton worried about Stiles and how he insisted on hanging out with a bunch of wolves while he remained stubbornly human.

The werewolf rears back, screeching and clawing at his face and Stiles follows him out, holding the spray aimed at him in case there's a second hit required. His legs fold underneath him but Stiles hangs on to his only weapon, holds it in trembling hands and watches the werewolf writhing on the ground for long enough to be sure that he's incapacitated before he crawls over and pats him down, looking for a phone.

The guy doesn't have one, slashes out blindly at Stiles who dodges, getting clipped on the cheekbone with a claw for his trouble. Stiles scuttles away and uses the car to lever himself back onto his feet, leans into the open driver's side and paws at the center console where there's a cell phone. 

He dials Scott from memory, keeping an eye on the werewolf who has curled into himself, still holding his face and whimpering. "What?" Scott snarls when he picks up.

"Scott?"

"Stiles!"

There's the sound of a scuffle in the background, Scott protesting and then Derek's saying, "Stiles, where are you? Are you okay?"

"I had to save myself, but I'm done with that now. Can you guys come get me?"

"Do you know where you are?"

Stiles looks around a little blearily, catches sight of buzzing neon. "Ugh, Lazy Traveler Motel, classy," he huffs.

"Are you safe?"

"For now," Stiles says.

"Stay where you are. We'll be there soon."

*

Derek and Scott have a glare-off when they get Stiles back to his place for who is going to stay with him per Deaton's instructions. Strangely enough, Scott wins and ushers the rest of the wolves out the door so he and Stiles can hunker down in the living room with candy and blankets.

"What's been going on with you lately?" Scott asks. He's good-naturedly accepted Stiles' feet in his lap and he tugs on one of Stiles' big toes now until Stiles has to curl his feet away.

"I don't know, just out of sorts I guess," Stiles says, chewing on a corner of his blanket. Usually they fight over who gets the Spider-Man blanket and who gets the scratchy orange one but Scott has relinquished Spider-Man this time without argument. "You forgot my birthday."

Now he says it out loud, it kind of sounds lame but even so, he's not expecting Scott to roll his eyes and snort. "Dude, so?"

"So?" Stiles repeats, hurt. 

"So, if I'd forgotten in the past, _which I have_ , you always remind me, loud and frequently. It's not like you to suffer in silence. In fact, I usually get a link to your Amazon wishlist about two months before."

"You guys were kind of busy, I guess," Stiles says. 

"I'm never too busy for you."

"Except when you're with Allison."

"Dude, I'm expecting to be thrown over by you for any number of people any day now," Scott says and Stiles blinks at him. "Doesn't change the fact that you're my numero uno bro."

"You have the pack and Allison and all that stuff going on."

"You have Team Human, I've seen the Facebook page," Scott says. "And if you haven't figured out by now that you have the pack too then I don't know how to help you."

"Ugh, shut up. You have to be nice to me. I was very recently kidnapped."

"If that were the rule I'd have to be nice to you all the time."

"That's not funny," Stiles says with a completely straight face, then they both crack up, a near miss making them slightly hysterical. When they sober, Stiles says, "What's going to happen to him, the werewolf that grabbed me?"

"Derek's taking him back to the pack he has a dispute with, but he's going to mediate. Make sure there isn't any unnecessary bloodshed."

"Because Derek is such a bastion of calm," Stiles snorts.

"You haven't seen it, but he's been getting good at this stuff. He's learning."

"I don't begrudge you the pack, you know? It's not about that. I see the wolves that come through here on their own and it's not... I wouldn't want you to have to be like that."

"In the beginning it didn't seem like we'd get here, did it?"

"It's not all in my head, that _we're_ not the same?"

"No, it's not," Scott agrees. "I don't know how it got into your head though that we can't do anything about it, or it can't be better." Scott gives Stiles a level look. "I expect you to tell me if something's bothering you, and I'll do the same."

"Okay, fine," Stiles huffs. 

"I can't believe you guys made a Facebook group. The picture of the wolf with the red cross through it was a little mean."

"We were going to call it the _No Scott's Allowed Club_ but we thought _that_ was a bit mean."

They're quiet for a few moments, each in their own heads, then Scott says, smirking, "Are you ever going to resolve the awkward-for-everyone-that-isn't-you-guys stuff with Derek?" 

"Recently kidnapped!" Stiles shrills, winging a pillow at Scott's face.

*

The next morning, Stiles opens the door to find Derek standing on the other side, holding out an envelope stiffly and looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Hi?" Stiles says. 

"Lydia says because I have trouble expressing my..." Derek flails for a second with the envelope.

"Displeasure? Dude, you have no trouble with that."

"My _feelings_ ," Derek perseveres. "I should find something that can do it for me." He steps forward so he can smack the envelope against Stiles' chest and then retreats again. Stiles has no option but to catch it and then it's his turn to hold it away from himself. Derek rolls his eyes. "It's not going to hurt you."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks and Derek's hesitation makes him worry more. He figures inside the envelope is a thoughtfully transcribed _Dear Stiles_ letter that thanks him for his ardor no matter how misguided but that their odd little dalliance is over because one of them had to go and get his stupid feelings all over a perfectly good no-strings-attached tongue fest. Stiles knows that he should be used to rejection by now, but he never seems to be. 

"Just..." Derek flails his hands again and then crosses his arms over his chest, determined set to his features. 

Stiles rips the envelope open, fast, because what's inside is going to sting like a bitch no matter what so there's no use dallying. He's surprised to find a card inside. He tweezes it out gently and then blinks at the happy little frog wearing a jaunty hat staring up at him from the front of the card. 

"Uh..."

"You have to open the card," Derek says between gritted teeth.

"Do you seriously think this is the best way to let someone down gently, using a cartoon frog?" Stiles says, appalled. 

"What? No! That's not... could you just open the damn card?"

Stiles does, because sometimes you can't help but look at the car crash even though you know it will scar you for life. Then he has to close the card and open it again to make sure he's seeing what he's seeing.

" _I find you absolutely ribbiting?_ "

"It's..." Derek makes an adorably helpless gesture. "They didn't seem to have any _I find you infuriating yet still want to spend all my time with you_ cards."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. I thought I was being pathetically obvious about that."

"Not so much, no."

"You think I... with just anyone?" Derek's frustration is evident.

"Ah..."

"I mean..." Derek says. "I want to be close to you, like, all the time." Derek pulls a face at himself, like _he_ can't believe he's such a hopeless mushball.

"That's..." Stiles swallows hard. "You're not bad at expressing yourself with words, just FYI."

Derek smiles at that, oddly pleased. "You're better at it than me."

"And yet, it's taken this long for us to have this conversation, and you initiated it. Look at you with the emotional growth."

"Do you...?" Derek stares at his feet, before risking a glance up at Stiles.

"Have a cutesy animal pun card to describe my feelings for you?" Stiles says. "Not so much, no."

"Oh."

"Hang on a sec," Stiles says, darts inside so he can get a notebook. He draws hastily, folds his paper in half, writes on the front and then brings it out to Derek. 

" _I want to be close to you all the time too,"_ Derek reads, opens the paper and snorts at the crude crustacean he finds scribbled inside. " _Even when you're crabby_."

*

"I don't care that he's your significant snugglebunny, no werewolves at Team Human night," Lydia says, actually smacking at Derek where he's lying pinning Stiles to the couch with a magazine. Stiles was completely chuffed to find that when you gave Derek the green light for public shows of affection, he turned the dial up to eleven, completely unmindful or possibly just uncaring of everyone else's discomfort.

"Make her go away," Derek pleads into the skin of Stiles' throat.

"I would but these days I'm more scared of Lydia than you." Derek rears back a little, but instead of the scowl Stiles is expecting, Derek makes a _fair enough_ face.

"Allison is calling in at any moment, chop chop," Lydia says as Derek picks himself up off the couch and snarls at her.

"I'll make it up to you!" Stiles calls to Derek's quickly retreating back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Stephen Colbert for the title and thank you The Office for the frog.
> 
> I am now [on tumblr](http://kellifer-k.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Foes With Benefits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372753) by [dapatty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty)




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